Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,52

empty hands.

Now I need to find him a sword.

I could sit back and hope, after the match against Ormek, that all these nice males will offer up their weapons out of the goodness of their hearts. That’s a laugh.

I stand on tiptoe, jumping occasionally, to scan the crowd and see what weapons the males are holding. There are a couple nail-studded bats that were so useful last time, and the mace that Ormek wielded at the last match. I see no swords, but I see a male with the scythe. It’s maybe five feet long with a metal sickle-shaped blade at the end. It will be perfect.

I hear scuffling and the audience calling. Looking over, I see the animal is now in the cage. The fight will start any second.

Shit. When I get close enough, I see the scythe might be up to the task of separating a male’s head from his shoulders, but it’s far too flimsy to go up against a small blue-green T-Rex.

Twenty paces away, though, there’s a male brandishing a sickle over his head. It’s the exact same configuration as the scythe, but doesn’t have the reach; its handle is much shorter. I press my way toward it, receiving more than my fair share of gropes along the way.

When I arrive next to the owner of the sickle I assess it for sturdiness. Although Wrage will have to fight up close and personal, this tool is sturdy enough to do the job.

“Price for the sickle?” I ask. Prepared to pay whatever he asks.

The old male is reptilian. I wonder if he’s going to be rooting for his reptilian cousin in the cage as opposed to my mate. I’ve never liked reptilian species. Mrzz, my third owner, didn’t make me any fonder of them, either. And, of course, Sooma Ryone tops the list of odious reptiles.

“He’s your mate?” he asks.

Shit, he’s re-calculating his price even as we speak. I can’t lie, though. “Yes.”

He almost hands it to me, then snatches it back. “Is he a good male?”

Even here in this crowd with the noise and the stench of a giant reptile added to the smell of all these unwashed bodies. Even now, seconds away from watching the guards throw my male into the cage, my face lights as my love for Wrage shines out. “Yes, he’s a good male. The best in the galaxy.”

My eyes are bright with unshed tears as I spear him with my request. “Price?” I demand.

“Here,” he says as he hands it to me.

“Thank you,” I say with shocked sincerity. He could have asked me anything and I would have given it. “Thank you.”

Somehow I force my way through the crowd until I’m at the edge of the cage. Sooma Ryone’s voice interrupts from overhead.

“I’m pleased so many of you chose to attend today even with the increased price of attendance. I notice that you’ve already seen what’s on the agenda for tonight’s bout. I’ve had this Prandenour brought in from Primitiff just for tonight’s festivities.

“These beasts all have a small chip implanted that can incapacitate them should the need arise. I will not be using that tonight. We’ll . . . let nature take its course.” His smooth, insincere voice makes my skin crawl.

“Since our out-of-town guest can’t follow directions well, we’ll skip the two minima preliminaries and go straight to the bout. Let the game begin.”

Wrage doesn’t allow the guards to prod him into the cage—he has too much honor for that. He strides in when they open his door. A shiver races through my body as I think of the amount of courage he possesses to walk to his certain death.

The little T-Rex’s head almost touches the top of the cage; it has to be at least twenty feet tall. The disparity in their size is ridiculous. This is nothing even resembling a fair fight.

The animal doesn’t need to hear the starting bell, his oversized head lunges at Wrage, snap, snap, snapping at him in three bare misses. Luckily, my mate’s attention was totally focused and he managed to outrun the beast.

“Wrage!” I scream over the prodigious roar of the animal. Somehow he hears me, his head tipping back in shock when he sees the weapon I’m offering. “Achilles tendon,” I say when he runs toward me. “When he’s down, jugular.” I point to my throat. I imagine he’s well-versed in cutting this part of the anatomy.

I wish the scythe had been better constructed. It would have given him distance